


Echoes

by silentstephi



Category: Gargoyles (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 08:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5959864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentstephi/pseuds/silentstephi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story on the origin of the Grimorum Arcanorum. Submitted to the Grimorum Anthology for the Gathering of '06.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> This was a story I wrote for the Gathering of the Gargoyles Con in 2006. It was included in the Grimorum Anthology. Since it's been a few years, I figured I could post it up here. Christine Morgan edited it for me. She's super keen.

"It is time."

The fires flared, shifting from bright orange to dark violet. The sharp smell of incense, burnt herbs and blood choked the air in the small cave. Droning chants voiced by a myriad of worshippers rang in her ears as she closed her eyes and waited to be reborn.

The robed figure approached her and anointed her forehead with oil. It ran red down her face, in her eyes, as she gazed upon her God and he made her See.

"See, my child and know what it is to be blessed. Know, and rejoice in the knowledge I have granted you," said the figure, strong and proud. He cupped his hands around her delicate face, his eyes drinking in her innocent beauty.

Then he Saw the truth. He stripped her of innocence, replaced it with sorrow, betrayal, fear and anguish as her heart became known to him, and he cried out in pain, "No!"

She loved him dearly, but she had never truly loved him.

Confusion clouded her azure stare as she looked up at her God, her mentor. The chanters screamed as he stepped back, shaking a finger at her.

"I curse you child, for though your face shows me one thing, your heart has spoken true. I curse you! Even though your Sight will pierce the veil of time, none shall ever believe you. Your warnings will go unheard, your truths ignored. I curse you Cassandra, now and forever!"

The chanters screeched at crescendo. While she stared at him in his golden and righteous visage, red blood mixing with crystal tears, a blinding flash of white light consumed them all. She was alone in the cave, the chill of midnight in her bones.

Heartbroken, she lowered her head into her lap, chestnut tresses spilling over naked shoulders, and wept.

* * *

 

The moonrise looks beautiful tonight, mused Brooklyn.

He hadn't much time to just glide and watch it lately. The washed-out purple of the Manhattan night sky gave birth to the large pearly white orb. The October breeze was chilly, but still had some of summer's lingering warmth mixed in its currents.

"Earth to Beak, come in."

"Mmm?" He eyed Lexington, who glided by, spoiling his view of the moon.

"I've asked you like five times. Well?" said Lex, returning to his lazy glide next to his rookery brother.

"Well what?"

Lexington rolled his eyes, and then slowly said, "Why are we really patrolling this far from the castle?"

Brooklyn blinked. He'd been drifting, and shaking his head, he said curtly, "Just breaking the pattern. Not like the Hammer Heads are going to stick to being predictable. Come on, let's start our way back."

They banked right and started back towards Castle Wyvern. Lex looked over at Brooklyn and asked, "You okay? You've been out of it lately."

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just tired. You know, that whole survival thing."

"Yeah." Lex's voice trailed away in thought. A few silent minutes passed, and then he said, "Hey Brooklyn, what's that light?" He poked a talon towards a tall apartment building.

It was streaming from a glass greenhouse on the roof, an eerie turquoise glow melting into dark violet, turning the rooftop into a black-lit clubhouse.

Lexington growled. "I don't like it."

"Guess it's time to see who's making with the mojo. I was starting to get bored," Brooklyn said as he rolled into a dive towards the light show.

Both gargoyles landed with practiced silence and cautiously tiptoed to the greenhouse. The lights pulsed between the greenish teal glow to black hole violet as if to the beat of an unseen heart. The glass enclosing the rectangular greenhouse was fogged, and the door to it was closed, though a wisp of amethyst fog leaked out from the bottom.

Lex raised a brow ridge at Brooklyn, who shrugged and started looking for an entrance. Inside the greenhouse, a deep feminine voice speaking in Latin made Brooklyn freeze in place. His eyes flashed white.

"Demona!" Brooklyn roared, and leapt at the foggy window.

The plate glass shattered on impact, and he reeled as the sights and sounds of the place bombarded his senses. There was a hissing from the corner and glowing vermilion orbs lit up the greenhouse. Lexington crunched over the glass while Brooklyn shook his head to clear it of the sensory overload, and from the foggy depths they heard someone say, "You're too late, as usual."

Lexington's eyes burned with searing rage as he rushed towards the voice, but Demona deftly sidestepped him with the cat-like grace born of a thousand years experience.

"Temper, temper small one. You will learn to thank me for this gift. Enjoy no longer needing to fear the weakness the morning sun brings to our kind."

With two bounds she smashed through the opposite side of the greenhouse, a jaguar cry echoing through the night sky as she escaped.

Brooklyn dashed past Lexington but was caught short as his rookery brother latched onto his tail.

"Wait! We can't just charge after her, it could be a trap!"

"We have to capture her, now!" Brooklyn snarled. When Lexington didn't budge, Brooklyn shrugged him off, stomping back inside the greenhouse where the fog had begun to lift. "Fine. Then we have to tell Goliath. It's the first time anyone has seen her in months, and -"

A groan came from inside in the greenhouse. It sounded human. Both warriors tensed, wary of an ambush. Carefully, they stalked towards the sound.

The squared form of an altar resolved through the mist. It held an assortment of things … some incense, candles, and a bubbling cauldron from which the fog had finally ceased billowing. As the mist dispersed, Brooklyn noticed more items on the floor: a battered book, a large white feather, and a second cauldron, empty and brass.

All these things sat in a pool of blood coming from the torn throat of a robed man lying on the ground.

The man groaned and sat up, rubbing his forehead.

Brooklyn and Lexington gasped as they saw the gaping wound across the human's throat knit together and heal before their eyes.

Blinking blearily up at the gargoyles, the man's eyes widened in surprise.

 

* * *

 

"Papa?"

A small child shook his shoulder. Helenus rubbed his forehead and the child looked at him with concerned bright blue eyes.

Andromache, her stitching forgotten, watched her husband from the table. "Are you well husband?"

Helenus slowly got to his feet. Apparently he had stumbled to his knees. There was an ache where there had not been one before. Deep within his soul, something had cried out, and then, silence.

He looked between wife and son and gave the boy a weak smile. "I'm fine. Just a little tired. I need some fresh air. Attend your mother, Cestrinus."

The boy smiled at his father and sat near his mother. She patted the boy's hand, her grey eyes clouded with concern, but went back to her stitching as Helenus walked from the room.

The balcony opened to a magnificent view of the countryside surrounding the city of Molossia. Mountainous shadows loomed at the horizon, with acres of wheat fields between the mountain pass and the city gate.

Helenus, however, noticed none of this. His thoughts were a jumble, and he craved the breath of cool autumn air.

The hole, the ache, would not leave him, but he had trouble naming it. It was not as if a Sight was coming to him. It was annoying not knowing, yet he felt afraid to find out.

Staring through the shadows, his hazy thoughts solidified into a searing flash of insight. Cassandra. She's gone.

He reached for her touch, but nothing answered.

Since the war, he knew their destinies would lie apart, but he did not think her death would have such a harsh effect on him. His vision blurred, he gazed up into the night sky. The moon looked back at him but offered him no solace, no comfort. His heart felt so empty.

The soft rustle of clothing made him turn to find an elderly woman, cloaked from head to foot in a dark wool robe, coming from inside the manor. A hollow, raspy voice emerged from the cowled face.

"It is done."

"Excuse me?"

The woman shuffled closer to Helenus. She lifted her face, the moon's light unable to pierce the shadows underneath her cowl. Except for her eyes. Cataracts shined milky white as she said, "Is the heir of Priam's blood ready for the fate that awaits him now? Tell me, Seer, what do you see?"

He paused, watching the old woman. It had been some time since he had Seen truth and spoke of it to those in need. The question coming from this woman did not inspire such Sight, his gift queerly silent.

"I feel my sister's touch no more, Old One. That is all."

She cackled. "Ah, but final death is not slated for her. Not yet. It is unfortunate, and would be avoidable, had she not been betrayed."

He inhaled sharply. "Speak, woman! Tell me what you know."

Her shoulders shook softly, and her gnarled bony hand reached under her robe. From the folds of her cloak she pulled a battered book with the leaves sticking out at odd angles and unknown stains on the cover. She handed it over to Helenus.

"For too long you have been blinded. See the truth, Helenus, and resign to your fate. Seek me again when your understanding grows. When my Eye blinks, you will know where to find me."

Helenus took the book from the old woman and went to say something to her, but she was gone. Alone on the balcony he stared at the book. Opening it to the first entry, he started reading.

* * *

 

 

Velvet black paws tapped down onto the edge of the rooftop. Licking her fur, the cat gazed at a strange sight over on the next building. Through a broken wall of glass she could see three figures. Her tail lazily swung from side to side as she watched.

The human said something, an interrogative, and she saw confusion on both the gargoyles faces.

The smaller gargoyle stepped forward and said to the human, "It's ok. We won't hurt you."

The man blinked a few times, then slowly stood up on wobbly legs. He brushed off his dark robe and muttered something in Latin. The cat's ears flicked forward in recognition.

Moments later the man said, "You ... understand?" His voice was harsh and dry, as if unused for some time.

Both gargoyles eyed each other, then the red one stepped forward. "Yeah, now that you're speaking English. I'm Brooklyn. This is Lexington. Who are you?"

Ignoring the question, the stranger looked around at all the items near him. He started shaking his head and muttered, "Impossible." He bent down and gathered up a cauldron, a book and a feather. The feather trembled slightly in his fingers and confusion clouded his gaze.

The gargoyles exchanged a look over his head then the green one, Lexington, jerked his chin towards the horizon.

Dawn was coming.

Bright feline eyes followed the scarlet gargoyle. Brooklyn gently laid a hand on the man's shoulder and said, "Look dude, we need to take you some place safe. Then at sunset we can go after her and fix whatever she did to you."

The man's head twitched at the words. He stashed the items inside his robe then looked squarely at Brooklyn and said, "Where are we?"

"New York City," said Lexington.

"New York City?"

"Yeah, check it out." Lexington grabbed the man's hand and led him out past the shattered greenhouse window, towards the edge of the roof.

The predawn Manhattan skyline stretched out as far as the eye could see. Traffic was at a dull roar, the early morning light gave the buildings a subtle haze they didn't possess during the day. The cat watched as the human looked on in awe.

"Magnificent."

Lexington started to fidget, hopping from foot to foot and glancing nervously at the horizon. "Look," he said, "we need to hurry."

The man looked as well, gave a small sad smile and shook his head. "I know your kind would normally fear the dawn, but you need not fear it today. She has taken care of it. I see that now. What I don't understand is why she freed me."

"Freed you?" both gargoyles asked. "Were you enslaved to Demona?" Brooklyn added with a snarl.

The man shook his head. "No, she released me from the book."

Both gargoyles looked baffled. Lexington asked, "What book?"

Whiskers twitched in amusement as she saw the human hesitate.

"Its name is not important. What is strange is that this Demona has fulfilled my most deeply seated wish, but broke the book. That was not how the spell was meant to be used. The purpose is lost now."

Both gargoyles looked unable to respond, but by then it was too late anyway. Sunlight poured over the horizon, and the transformation began.

With stone overtaking him, the scarlet gargoyle said, "Stay here until dark!" Then he was frozen, with his hands reaching out, while the smaller one's stone face looked warily out over the city.

The human looked at both stone figures and shrugged. He didn't seem concerned. He brought out the battered journal from his robe.

The cat heard him say, as he looked up at the sun, "I will have a token of my vengeance. When the land is cloaked in darkness, will you know humility? Will you be humbled? For the anguish you caused her, I will see you grovel."

With typical feline whimsy, she decided now was as good a time as any to get the human's interest. She leapt across to the fire escape and cried for his attention. As he peeked over the ledge of the building, she demanded his immediate response to her call.

"Here to watch as the Sun God perishes in shame? Come, night eye, watch with me. Your matron should be here soon, and I have hours before these creatures wake. I am feeling lonely."

She placed agile paws on the stairs of the escape and climbed up, silent as the wind. Landing on the buildings' edge, she butted her head against his outstretched hand. He petted her absently.

As the sun rose higher into the morning sky, the man sat down between the two statues and laid his head back against the roof side. She made herself comfortable on his lap and watched him with knowing eyes as he leaned back and fell into dream.

* * *

 

 

Muttering to himself groggily, Helenus pulled an open book off his face and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

He looked around his room and frowned. It was a mess. Scrolls and notes were scattered everywhere, with his clothes in piles all around, and dirty cups and plates piled up next to them. He needed to clean, but he had some more research to be done first.

He retrieved the book that had started him on this whirlwind of knowledge seeking and vengeance. He caressed it, then opened it up to a random entry. After reading for a moment or two, he closed it and got out of bed.

His kingdom was centuries gone. He had run into the old woman years after that first meeting, and she had told him many things that would change his life.

"Your sister did not need to die, and Troy need not have fallen, had it not been for the vanity of your patron, Apollo. Tell me truthfully; do you feel all of your blood deserved their fate, just to save one god's pride?"

He had wandered the known world looking for an answer to her question. The old woman, the Titaness Hekate, had given him the strength to live so long. He still looked like a man in his prime. His hands were strong and firm, his sandy blonde hair only slightly flecked with gray.

His thoughts drifted again, back to his initiation night with the Titaness. She, and her three attendants … honey-blonde, midnight-black and snowy-white haired triplets. His tongue tingled in remembrance of the savory taste the ambrosia left in his mouth. He heard in memory the distant cry as his connection with the Sun God was severed and supplicated with his new devotion to the goddess of magick.

Shuddering, he grabbed his cloak, threw it over his shoulders and made his way out into the city.

He knew the road to vengeance against any god was paved with knowledge. So since his own self exile from his kingdom, he traveled through Persian, Greek and Egyptian lands, in search of ancient scrolls and tomes. His only companions were an endless succession of donkeys. Every decade or so, after yet another beast made the journey to Hades, he would become some notable personages' manservant, scholar, or a child's tutor. The family's library would be his to ravage for decades, until such time as he would stage his own demise and move along, carrying away journals upon journals of notes and observations. Each decade brought him closer and closer to an answer, and with immortality granted him by Hekate, he had time.

Stormy thoughts and theories thundered inside his mind as he walked, making him inattentive to his environment.

Two men watched Helenus from the balcony of someone's home, one with a look of disgust, the other of indifference.

"See how he walks with impunity? Who will he challenge next once he has his vengeance on me? The crone's protection should not have lasted this long."

"Peace my son. If he disturbs you so, why not destroy him? He has stolen from you, rejected the gift you gave him, and seeks your downfall. Just kill him and be done with it."

The golden haired man smiled cruelly. "By your leave." He looked back at the retreating form of Helenus.

A raspy voice from behind them said, "Are you prepared to make the same mistake twice, Apollo? The Fates have already spun his destiny; Atropos has yet to cut his thread."

The crone, Hekate, walked towards father and son. Both turned to look at her, but she looked at neither, instead watching Helenus make his way out of sight.

"You have no right to gainsay me, Titan." Fire flashed in Apollo's eyes as he glared at the goddess.

She looked down at her frail hands, the perfect visage of elderly delicacy. She knew her situation was precarious, and that she needed to word things carefully.

"I do not try to. I merely wish that you do not take rash action that may be the ruin of all. Wouldn't you agree, Zeus?"

The king of the gods considered the crone's words, his storm gray eyes hardening in thought. He looked at his son and nodded. "You fear this mortal's potential and his vendetta against you. But you need not look over your shoulder. I will never again allow a mortal to grow so arrogant to think he can defy the gods. For now, his destiny will remain intact. However, if he raises his power against my son, Apollo, his life shall be forfeit. Fates or no."

She kept her face carefully blank as Zeus looked at her for any reaction. Bowing low she said, "As you command, so shall it be," then she shuffled off the balcony and faded from view, leaving behind a wispy gossamer of webs.

* * *

 

 

He woke with the sun in his eyes. Shaking his head he sat up and looked up in time to watch the culmination of Demona's spell.

The sun stared balefully as the moon crept closer, converging in a total solar eclipse. As the moon blanketed the sun, small cracks developed in the two stone statues. The man stepped back and watched the drama unfold.

The eclipse looked as if it was in fast forward. Soon Luna overran Sol and both became one.

The stone statues growled.

White-hot eyes flared, first Brooklyn then Lexington screamed and burst through their stone shells. They stretched and blinked at each other, looking around in amazement.

"Whoa," they breathed.

"We're awake! But the sun's still out!"

Brooklyn couldn't speak. He just looked up at the dark ring in the sky. "How-?"

"This is purpose fulfilled."

Both gargoyles swiftly turned to find the man standing with his arms crossed, a black alley cat hiding behind his robe, peeking out at them.

"Purpose? What purpose?" asked Lexington, confusion and wonder in his voice.

"Demona. She cast some spell. What do you know of it? How did she do it?" Brooklyn advanced toward the human, but the man held up his hand.

"Peace. I will tell you what you wish, but first you must listen. She has fulfilled my deepest wish. But she's also perverted it. The spell she cast has two parts. The first part suppresses the sun god for three days and three nights, to humble him and all that follow him. One the third night, the second part must be cast and all will return to it's gods given cycle. But she broke the book. The spell cannot end. Your curse of stone sleep is because of the sun, but now, without its direct light, you are free to roam, day and night. The book was created to humble the gods, not to destroy the world. I'm not sure I can help you without it."

"What book? And why not?" Brooklyn snarled.

Lexington moved in front of his brother, and placed a hand on his forearm, "Hold on a sec, Brooklyn. Let's hear him out." Then he looked at the man and said, "We need to know … what book?"

Clearing his throat, the man looked up at the eclipse. His eyes squinted, and he looked away again. "The book was my life's work, a tool to humble the arrogant gods. After defeating the Titans, the residents of Olympus felt they were invincible. The book was a way of showing them that without us, without Man, they were nothing."

"Olympus, you mean the Greek gods?" asked Lexington.

"Yes, though I don't doubt they are known differently now. Greek gods, Roman gods, Gallic or Persian or Egyptian gods, they are all the same in the end. All arrogant. All needing something to fear."

Eyes narrowed, Brooklyn said, "Who are you?"

A stray breeze rustling his robe, the man stared flatly at Brooklyn with slate-blue eyes.

"I am the Grimorum."

* * *

 

 

The slave was dying.

Praying incoherently to Anubis, he suffered his final breaths in agony. He had been beaten to within an inch of his life for spilling wine upon the Emperor. Oblivious to the dark figure waiting in the corner of his cell, he was only aware of the pain in death.

As the light began to fade from the slave's eyes, the cowled figure walked forward, reaching for the dying man's chest.

In his pain-induced delirium, the slave grasped at him and begged, "He Who Counts the Hearts, please, grant me a place in your kingdom!"

The figure placed his hand on the slave's faltering heart. From the slave's threadbare rags, he drew forth a pure white feather. He let the compassion in his eyes peer out from beneath the cowl to meet the dying man's gaze.

"That," he said softly, "is not a promise I can keep."

With that he stood and slipped the feather into his robe, leaving the slave and cell behind. Hurrying through the dungeon halls he bumped into a servant-boy on his way back up to the palace.

The youth sprang backwards in surprise. "Pardon this one's clumsiness Honorable M-Magus."

He stared at the skittish underling for a moment, then sniffed and moved on as if nothing had happened. His hand had clutched at the feather when the boy had knocked into him, and the chill whispers of energy coming off of it made him shiver. He had to reach his chamber quickly.

It took him only moments to reach the exit. With a few versed words he took one step forward and shimmered out of existence, only to reappear into his candle lit lab.

The sun was setting outside the window, and he smiled. The cauldron Hekate had given him bubbled vigorously, its contents so diverse but so necessary to the magicks he must wield.

Tonight was the night his life was meant for. Now that he had the Balance, tonight he would create an artifact even the gods would fear.

* * *

 

 

He watched the green gargoyle sputter in disbelief.

"B-but Goliath said the Grimorum was eaten by the Archmage! He was destroyed because he lost the Eye of Odin!"

"That pretender?" He snorted. "There was only room for one of us. The Archmage was not strong enough to channel so much power. Suffice to say, I am the Grimorum. I created it, I became it."

"Time out," Brooklyn said, holding his hands in a T. "Created it? You mean you're the Magus? The Magus? Forgive me for not falling to your feet in awe, but how can we believe that? I mean you've got the dress code down, but how do we know you're not just some costumed geek here to distract us while Demona gets away?"

Crossing his arms, he glared at the upstart gargoyle, but before he could speak he heard a hiss come from his robe.

The feline was advancing towards Brooklyn. Two other cats appeared from the shadows. One pale gold, one snow white. They stared at Brooklyn with identical ice blue stares.

In the blink of an eye the cats were supplanted by the Weird Sisters. The icy stares were all that remained the same.

"Ok, this just officially got weird," Lexington mumbled nervously.

About time, he thought.

The Sisters turned as one from Brooklyn to look at him.

"Helenus, you must remake it."

"You know what Zeus will do if you don't."

"Its task, and yours, are not yet complete."

Helenus sighed and let his arms fall to his sides.

Lexington moved between him and the Sisters. "Wait, why do you care? You're Oberon's, not Greek."

Three identical looks pierced Lexington, and he shivered.

"Zeus."

"Ra."

"Odin."

"Oberon," they said as one. "All are faces of the same Truth."

"Without the Grimorum, there will be nothing left to see them," Luna said.

"Your sister knew this well," said Phoebe, walking forward and resting a hand lightly on Helenus' shoulder.

"As did you," Selene said, mirroring her sister.

A darkness passed overhead. Everyone looked up. The shadow of the moon seemed to detach itself from the eclipse. It formed into an old woman, who took one step onto their rooftop.

Hunched over, her face hidden by the cowl of her cloak, she ambled up to Helenus and spoke softly but clearly. "Come child. You know our work is not complete. You have what you need; let us undo what the ignorant creature has done." Without looking back, she purposefully made her way into the battered greenhouse.

He bowed his head, firmed his resolve and then purposefully headed in after Hekate. Brooklyn and Lexington followed the bizarre train of Fae, Magus and Goddess back into the green house.

Inside, Helenus looked over the altar Demona had used to break the book. He thought it only right that the vessel used to destroy the book would now be used to recreate it.

Hekate waved her hand and the sharp smell of sandalwood flooded the area. The small brazier flared to life and the Weird Sisters positioned themselves around Helenus, humming softly in a strange harmony.

Carefully, he placed the cauldron, journal and feather on the altar and was struck with the last concrete memory he had: creating the Grimorum for the first time.

He closed his eyes as he recreated the ritual in his mind. His twin's journal contained the Knowledge to be the anchor. The leaves were curled and decrepit with age, but spells of preservation kept it whole throughout the centuries. Even now, the book was still intact, though there were stains from the first spell still streaked on its cover.

In the lower left corner he placed the brass cauldron Hekate had given him. It was symbolic of his Control over the subtle energies of the earth. With a wave of his arm and a small exertion of his will he filled it to the brim with a greenish concoction that quickly came to a boil. The scent of dragon's blood and sage mingled with the sandalwood.

To the right of the journal, he positioned the soft white feather from the scale of Ma'at. The quiet, chill energy he felt when he first acquired it still pulsed within its delicate frame. Brown flecks marred its perfect white face, remnants of the first time he had cast this spell.

He had the Knowledge, the Balance, and the Control.

Time to give it the Power.

He reached for the silver dagger he habitually kept in his cloak. But it wasn't there. It had gone with time.

Silver glinted at the edge of his view. He looked up to see the dagger in Hekate's outstretched hand.

"Begin your spell; reweave what has been torn asunder. The world must turn again." She gazed lovingly at her protégéé and joined the Sisters in their strange chorus.

Gathering up his conviction, his will, his Power, he began the incantation. As he formed his thoughts and the spell into words, the Latin spilled from his lips like water.

He retraced the arcane symbols into his flesh, bracing himself against the pain. His scarlet life poured over the items once more, mingled with bubbling brew, painted the diary and soaked the snowy perfection of the feather.

With a deep breath, he jerked the dagger and ripped through his gut. He hissed with the pain, but continued chanting.

Hekate shimmered in his vision. Her decrepit crone façade had been replaced with the look of an old and caring grandmother in a translucent silk robe. She chanted with him as the pain doubled him over.

The Sisters clasped hands, and the spell around them became a tangible thread. Fresh violet and sea green light bled from them and formed into glowing lines connecting all the items, including Helenus.

As the last verse spilled from his lips, Helenus collapsed. Hekate held the dying Magus like a son. Stroking the sweat soaked hair back from his brow, she kissed him on the forehead, and softly spoke the same words she had uttered two thousand years before.

"Peace, my sweet Helenus, child of Priam and Hecuba, brother to Cassandra, and know that our work will be complete, someday..."

* * *

 

 

Gliding back to the castle, Lexington looked at the book in Brooklyn's arms.

"So, uh, Brooklyn, how are we going to explain all this to Goliath?"

Brooklyn shrugged. "The Weird Sisters said the spell will need to be completed in three days time. That means seventy-two hours of being flesh and blood. I'm not sure how Goliath, Hudson, or Elisa will react."

They glided in silence until a thought struck Lexington. Grinning up at Brooklyn, he winked. "Hey, at least Hudson won't have to have Elisa tape his soaps for the next three days."

The End


End file.
